The Extra's Rise - Chapter 1096
1096: The Blade of Non-Existence 1096: The Blade of Non-Existence Tenebria stared at the empty space where her left arm used to be.
The stump wasn’t bleeding anymore.
It was capped by a layer of grey static-a localized reality failure that refused to acknowledge biology.
Her eyes shifted to Orange (Gluttony).
“Regrow,” she commanded.
The Miasma in the air rushed toward the injury, swirling in a vortex of healing potential.
Flesh bubbled, bone tried to knit…
and then it fizzled.
The energy hit the grey static and dissipated.
The universe whispered a new rule: Tenebria has no left arm.
“You…” Tenebria looked up, her face twisting from shock into a rictus of pure, unadulterated fury.
“You broke my symmetry!” She screamed.
It wasn’t a battle cry; it was a sonic weapon amplified by the Authority of Wrath.
The ocean below boiled from the sheer frequency.
“DIE!” She raised her remaining hand.
She didn’t hold back.
She unleashed the Seven Sins simultaneously.
Around her, space fractured.
Portals of Gluttony opened, trying to devour the light.
Beams of Wrath fired in erratic, explosive patterns.
Fields of Sloth expanded to freeze the atoms of the air.
Illusions of Envy fractured her image into a thousand copies.
It was a chaotic storm of godhood.
A barrage meant to overload the senses and erase matter.
I stood floating in the center of the apocalypse.
My hand felt light.
The Intangible Sword-the construct of True Grey-had no weight because it had no mass.
It was simply a direction.
I looked at the incoming storm.
“Messy,” I whispered.
I stepped forward.
A beam of Wrath, thick enough to vaporize a dreadnought, roared toward my chest.
I flicked my wrist.
The Sword of Non-Existence passed through the beam.
It didn’t block it.
It unmade it.
The red light touched the grey edge and unraveled, turning into harmless sparks of base mana.
The beam split, passing harmlessly over my shoulders.
I kept walking.
A gravity well of Gluttony tried to suck me in.
I slashed it in half.
The singularity collapsed with a sad pop.
Tenebria watched her attacks fail, her eyes widening.
“Why?!” she shrieked.
“That is Divine Authority!
It is the law of the cosmos!
You cannot just say ‘No’ to gravity!” “I’m not saying no to gravity,” I said, closing the distance.
“I’m saying no to you.” I was ten meters away.
Tenebria panicked.
Her instincts-the ones that had kept her alive in the Abyss-took over.
Authority of Envy: Covetous Step.
She tried to teleport.
She wanted the space behind me.
She blurred.
“Stay,” I said.
I swung the sword horizontally.
I didn’t aim at her body.
I aimed at the distortion in the air where she was trying to go.
ZRRRT.
A sound like a zipper tearing echoed.
Tenebria crashed out of her teleportation mid-transit.
She stumbled in the air, falling to one knee on an invisible platform.
“My path…” she gasped, clutching her chest.
“You cut the coordinates?” “I cut the Envy,” I corrected.
I was in front of her now.
Tenebria looked up.
Her eyes flashed Violet (Pride).
She summoned her absolute defense-the field that rejected all harm.
A wall of purple light solidified between us, dense enough to stop a planet collision.
“You cannot touch the Overlord!” she screamed.
I raised the Void Blade.
“There is no Overlord,” I said.
“There is just a thief hiding behind a wall.” I brought the sword down.
The blade didn’t even slow down.
It passed through the Authority of Pride as if it were smoke.
It struck Tenebria’s shoulder.
She screamed-a sound of genuine, mortal terror.
I didn’t cut her arm off this time.
I cut deeper.
The blade passed through her flesh, through the Dragon Scale, through the Demon Chitin, and touched the Soul beneath.
I saw them.
The seven knots of stolen light.
The Gifts she had ripped from the corpses of her enemies.
I aimed for the Violet knot.
SNIP.
The tension in the air snapped.
The purple barrier shattered into glass-like shards that dissolved into rain.
Tenebria fell back, clutching her chest.
She looked at her hands.
The violet aura that usually coated her skin-the supernatural durability that made her immune to damage-flickered and died.
“My Pride…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“I can’t feel my Pride.” “You never earned it,” I said, stepping closer.
“So I’m taking it back.” Tenebria scrambled backward in the air, fear flooding her expression.
For the first time in ten thousand years, she felt vulnerable.
She felt soft.
“Get away!” she shrieked.
Her eyes turned Green.
She tried to use Envy to speed herself up, to run away.
I lunged.
The Intangible Sword extended, the grey light stretching like a spear.
It pierced her thigh.
It didn’t draw blood.
It drew Green Light.
I twisted the blade.
SNAP.
Tenebria convulsed.
The supernatural speed vanished from her limbs.
She went from a blur of motion to a sluggish, heavy thing.
She flailed, her movements suddenly adhering to the laws of inertia she had ignored for eons.
“My Envy!” she wailed.
“Give it back!
It’s mine!” “It was never yours,” I said coldly.
I was dissecting her.
I wasn’t killing the girl.
I was killing the monster she had built around herself.
She tried to punch me, desperate now.
Her fist glowed Red (Wrath).
I caught her wrist with my bare hand.
The explosion of Wrath detonated against my palm.
My skin burned, the Miasma in my blood hissing as it regenerated the damage instantly.
I ignored the pain.
I looked her in the eye.
“Wrath,” I noted.
“Moloch’s heart.” I brought the sword up.
“No!” Tenebria pleaded, seeing the angle.
“I need that!
I need the strength!
Without it, I’m weak!” “Then be weak,” I said.
I slashed her bicep.
The Red Light was severed.
The explosive power in her muscles evaporated.
Her arm went limp in my grip, transforming from a weapon of mass destruction into the thin, pale limb of a malnourished girl.
She stared at her arm.
It was trembling.
Not with power, but with weakness.
She looked at me, tears of black blood streaming down her face.
She wasn’t the Overlord anymore.
She was the Runt.
“Stop it,” she sobbed, backing away, clutching her depowered arm.
“Stop stripping me!
I worked for this!
I suffered for this!” “You consumed for this,” I corrected.
I walked toward her.
The Intangible Sword in my hand hummed, hungry for the next cut.
“I’m not done,” I said.
“You still have four left.” She had Gluttony (Regeneration).
She had Sloth (Dampening).
She had Greed (Theft).
She had Lust (Connection).
“Please,” she whispered, backing up until her back hit the invisible wall of the atmospheric pressure she could no longer control.
“If you take them…
I’ll die.
The Miasma will kill me.
I have no Gift of my own.” I stopped.
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Beneath the remaining layers of stolen godhood, I saw the child from the memory.
The one shivering in the alleyway, dying of poison in the air she breathed.
“I know,” I said softly.
I raised the blade.
“That’s why I have to finish it.”